A frostbitten soul by the sea

I still haven’t gotten fully warm. It’s more than three months since Everest, but I still suffer from an inner cold. The cold has spread to cold fingers, cold toes and plenty of shivers, even in a summer’s sunlight. My fingertips are cold even in 28 degrees Greek warmth. Yes, I survived Everest without loosing fingers or toes to frostbite. But somehow I think Everest bit me deeper. She bit into my soul, chilled me into my bones and still refuse to leave my mind. An inner frostbite. It sounds harsh but it isn’t. It’s beautiful, why it makes it all so much more difficult to let go.

I wrote a letter to mt. Everest. But I don’t know where to mail it. (maybe basecamp@mteverest.com?)

But I guess it’s my body I should be talking to. I close my eyes, look inward and silently asks – remember all the diving we used to do? How about recovering from my training sessions? How about getting rid of that cough? How about leaving all that ice behind, letting it melt into water?

Maybe the Mediterranean sea can help to wash the cold out of my body. Maybe freediving can push the mountain out of my mind. Or maybe they can both rest there, side by side.

Things are as they are. In my sometimes too optimistical mind I thought I would be recovered by now. I’m not. It can take up to 6 months to fully recover from Everest. I have a inner frostbite, some kind of low-altitude-sickness. So this world championships, my optimistical mind thinks anything can happen.